


Five Minutes, More or Less

by hanarobi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanarobi/pseuds/hanarobi





	Five Minutes, More or Less

He's been awake for the last hour, more or less. Managed to sleep through the night as the plane carried him from LA to NZ. He's opened the shade on the window and can see the dawn breaking on the horizon. Under the slash of brilliant orange and pale pink, there is a strip of darkness. He grins to himself when he sees that strip. It's New Zealand. He is seeing New Zealand. The rational part of his brain points out that it is probably Australia. The Hobbit part of his brain tells the rational part of his brain to just shut up and let it be New Zealand. New Zealand it is, he tells himself. The rational part grumbles, admits defeat, and shuts down. He won't be needing it for the next few weeks, anyway. "Hellllooooo, Hobbit Brain", he says to himself, and lets his grin get bigger and bigger. He gives a quick glance around the cabin but everyone else is still asleep. Rather glad about that because he can't control the grin and he's sure he must look like a complete dork.

He's picked up at the airport by WingNut staff. They assure him that they will find and deliver his luggage. He's not to wait for it. He gives someone he has never seen before his baggage claim stubs and follows some other new person out to the waiting limo. He is told that Mr. Jackson is waiting for him and he is to go straight to the set. He quirks an eyebrow ever so slightly at the "Mr. Jackson" but climbs into the car (big, new, fancy—hmm) without comment. There is no conversation during the drive. Which is fine because it gives him a chance to make the final mental adjustments he needs to be totally into the head space he'll need for the weeks to come. But it is different. Not quite like it used to be. He thinks about this briefly, aware that none of it, none of them, are quite like they used to be. When it was scary and fun. When it was so wonderful. What's left to do is almost too easy. They know too well what they are doing and they know it will work. So the challenge part of it is gone. No, this time it is about saying good-bye and wrapping it all up. This time it is about gathering in as much as possible before it is gone forever. This time it is about finishing up.

"Elijah!" and that, thank god, feels the same. He is engulfed by Peter. Held tightly by Peter. Loved by Peter. And hugging him back, holding on to him while feeling the warmth of the friendship between them, is about as good as it gets. And then he's hugging everyone. Fran, Phil, Viggo, Bernard, Karl, Miranda. And Orli—who is more different now than any of them. And finally, Sean and Billy. Forehead to forehead with the other hobbits for just a few seconds, silly in their joy at being here again, grinning like fools. And then, and only then, he can turn to Dom. Standing a little apart from everyone else, patiently waiting for the hugs of reunion to be done.

"Hey." And a look and a smile.

"Hey." The lost battle not to smirk.

"Been a while."

"Yeah, good to see ya again."

"Uh, Pete? Gotta take a piss. Five minutes and then we can start?"

"Make it ten, Elijah. We'll wait."

As Dom takes his hand and leads him from the room, right in front of everyone, which is so cool, really, and so different than how it was four years ago, Dom says, "Nah, I think five will do it."

"Dom!" he wails/giggles, blushing but not really caring, as the room erupts in laughter and the door closes behind them.

They race down the hall toward the men's room, still hand in hand, but bumping into each other, pushing, throwing out hips to throw the other one off. Once inside, they run a quick check of the stalls, delighted to find the entire place empty.

They crowd themselves into one stall, locking the door, not so much for privacy but for safety. They know all too well how solid that door is going to need to be in the next few minutes.

"Off!"

"Trying. Hurry. Oh, fuck. God, want you."

Clothes are flung. Part of a shirt sleeve plops into the bowl. They stop for a second and stare horrified at it. Then burst into giggles and snorts and shred the remaining clothes from their bodies. Hard, quick stares at the naked body of the other, each taking in the other's full erection, and then they are pressed against each other so wantonly, and so completely, hands are grabbing arms, hair, asses. Mouths are devouring, not making any sense, trying to kiss and bite and suck and lick and cling to lips and taste everything and never leave the lips while sucking and sucking and biting on lips and tongues and necks and nipples. And it is sloppy and wet and frantic and so not enough. No where nearly enough.

Elijah spins himself from Dom's embrace and slams himself hard against the wall of the stall, spreading his thighs and thrusting his ass at Dom. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." His cock is hard and jutting out, in contact with the cold metal wall. He twitches away from the cold and then smashes back into it, desperate at this point for any contact. He'll take the cold if he can just feel the pressure. "Dommm" he whines, urging.

"Lube." Elijah can't tell if it is a statement or a question.

"Pants."

He pauses in his grinding against the metal wall just long enough to see Dom grab at his own pants and pull a travel size packet of lube from the pocket.

"I meant my pants."

"Looks like we got extra then," Dom just grins at him and tears the packet open with his teeth.

They are so good at this. Have perfected the five-minute fuck. Dom coats his cock, then slicks Elijah's asshole. Slams in without asking, without preparation beyond the lube. It's all they have time for. It's how Elijah likes it anyway. It took Dom a while to learn this about Elijah. Either it is a hard, dirty five-minute fuck or an all day, over the top, five-hour lovemaking session. One for when he is on the set working and needs to just get the fuck out of his system so he can concentrate and one for when he needs to forget completely what his job asks and then takes from him.

He pumps and slams, one arm wrapped around Elijah's gut, holding him up and tucked hard against the thrusts that shove him forward, the other hand grasping Elijah's cock, stroking with violent yanking pulls. He is either whispering filthy things into Elijah's ear or biting down on that tender spot at the junction of neck and shoulder. Elijah's head is thrown back, his back is arching away from Dom's body, and his ass is pressed as forcefully as he can grind it into Dom's groin. They come so quickly, so easily, first Elijah and then, within seconds, Dom.

Before the tremors have entirely left their bodies, Elijah is reaching over for toilet paper, wadding up a bunch, cleaning himself off and wiping at the cum sliding down the cold metal wall. Dom drops to his knees, spreads Elijah's ass cheeks and begins to suck his cum out of Elijah's ass. This last bit is a new twist. They used to use condoms, when it was new, when they still needed to be safe. And condoms made it less messy. But now that they are fluid- bonded, they never think about condoms. And it took only one time of not sucking Elijah's ass clean, only that one time of Elijah leaving a wet spot on the chair after an interview, that the twist got added. There's just one problem…

"Oh, god, Dom…" Elijah is hard again.

"No time, mate. Tell it no."

Elijah looks over his shoulder and sees Dom's head nestled in his cheeks, feels Dom's tongue in his ass, twitches when Dom gives a particularly strong suck and slurp, then says in a tiny, shaky little voice, "no."

"Yeah, like that's gonna work. Here, turn around."

Elijah grins down at Dom's grinning up at him, then Dom's face disappears and Elijah's cock is sucked all the way into the back of Dom's throat. Elijah comes in less than a minute. Dom doesn't swallow. He shifts slightly, lifting his hands to pull Elijah down to him. Elijah slides down the cold metal wall into Dom's warm fleshy embrace. As their faces become level with each other, Elijah reaches out and kisses his cum out of Dom's mouth. Elijah swallows. The taste and smell is familiar and all their own. Musk, and cum, and spit, and selves.

They don't even pause to hold each other. The closest they come is holding each other's face and looking for telltale signs. An inspection of almost military precision. They get dressed with the same precision. No silly struggles born of haste that actually only slow you down. The wet sleeve is shrugged over and rolled up. Noticeable but not that bad. They rinse their mouths out at the sink and wash their hands. Run damp hands through hair. Both decide it's good enough.

As they start to leave the washroom, Elijah looks at his watch. Six minutes. He stops. The rational part of his brain wakes up, alarmed. "What are you doing? People are waiting!" He reaches out and grabs hold of Dom. Dom stops. Elijah takes his time. And Dom's. And Peter's.

"I love you," he says, as simple as that. And then, very slowly, they kiss.

Hobbit Brain blows a raspberry at Rational Brain.


End file.
